


if you ain't got no money take yo' broke ass home

by thebetterbina



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Connor, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gratuitous Smut, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mile High Club, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Top Hank Anderson, connor is a part time sugar baby, full time college student wreck, literally thats it - Freeform, thats all im capable of writing, they have sex on a private jet, what else am i supposed to say they have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: Connor plays the part of personal eye candy to Hank Anderson—renown business tycoon and only second to the Kamskis when it came to fortune. How he’d ended up with an arrangement of a $25k per month allowance and university tuition fully paid for is really beyond Connor. He’d been serving coffee to an outrageously handsome old bear one day and was in his bed the next.Wild how life had a way of making things work.While daunting, Connor can’t exactly complain about the way things are playing out, with them on their way to a private club in North Key Largo via exclusive invitation.It’s the first time Connor’s gotten a chance to travel by private jet.It’s also his first time traveling with a vibrator shoved up his ass.You can pry Sugar Baby Connor AU out from my cold dead fingers.Gratuitous smut. That's it. That's the whole plot.





	if you ain't got no money take yo' broke ass home

**Author's Note:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

If someone told Connor within the year he'd be invited to the  _ Ocean Reef Club  _ of Florida as someone’s sugar baby, he would have probably laughed it off and continued his job.

 

Connor, however much he’d try to deny it,  _ can’t _ say he doesn’t have experience of being a sugar baby; that was, as he guessed, the price of being a broke student with a pretty face. He’d somehow landed himself on the cursed dating site and eventually went onto hookups with older people who were more than willing to pay slabs of cash for his company. 

 

And if anyone asked, he’d blame his circle of friends for introducing the app to him. He’s blaming you, Simon.

 

It’d been awkward at first, not used to the somewhat forced aspect of a relationship (one night stands were never really his thing), but the more dates he offered himself up to—the more his understanding of the arrangements grew. He learned to tailor his personality to suit the person, knew what to ask for and exactly how to ask for it. Manipulative perhaps, a part of him consistently felt bad about what could possible be considered exploitation, but he’d always been upfront about his expectations.

 

He still has his normal job, but that’s a stretch of a lie, he  _ had _ his normal job as a rather boring barista.

 

For now, Connor plays the part of personal eye candy to  _ Hank Anderson _ —renown business tycoon and only second to the Kamskis when it came to fortune. How he’d ended up with an arrangement of a $25k per month allowance and university tuition fully paid for is really beyond Connor. He’d been serving coffee to an outrageously handsome old bear one day and was in his bed the next. 

 

Wild how life had a way of making things work.

 

While daunting, Connor can’t exactly complain about the way things are playing out, with them on their way to a private club in North Key Largo via exclusive invitation. 

 

It’s the first time Connor’s gotten a chance to travel by private jet. 

 

It’s also his first time traveling with a vibrator shoved up his ass.

 

“ _ Haaaank _ —“

 

His voice is strained, needy little whine leaving parted lips with hands clutching onto the armrests hard enough he’s almost sure he could pull the leather off. He feels the vibrations, insistent pulses that draw more whimpers—part of Connor feels embarrassment creep, red flush blooming across his cheeks at the thought of any of the flight attendants walking in on him. Getting to the airport and oarding the jet had been its own hell. Hank remains serene, acting unaffected—but if the tent in pressed slacks told an entirely different story. Blue eyes cast a glance upwards, attention finally drawn away from the tablet on hand. Hank carefully puts the device on the table, relaxes and holding finger up to motion Connor over.

 

“Come here.”

 

The command is simple, but two words are enough to draw a visceral need from Connor as he fumbles with the buckle. He closes the space between them within seconds, Hank easily guiding him down until his knees touch the carpeted floor of the jet, face a few inches from the clothed member. Connor returns with another whine, moving to nuzzle and mouth at the tented fabric drawing a chuckle from Hank, thick fingers card through tousled brown hair and Connor keens from the touch alone.

 

“Such a good boy. Go on. Take your treat.”

 

Shaky fingers work to undo the belt buckle, eyes kept firmly on the prize and motivated by the petting hands and soft praise—the semi-hard dick is pulled out, and Connor doesn’t need a second invitation before lips wrap and mouth sinks on the quickly hardening member. Hank from above him groans, fingers tightening on his hair and Connor gives a choked yelp when he feels the vibrator rise in intensity.

 

“Fuck. You look perfect just like this you know? On your knees and pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.” 

 

Connor returns with muffled sounds of agreement, tears brimming on the corner of his eyes—he’d never quite gotten used to the girth of the older man. He bobs his head obediently, length slick from saliva and drool that quickly builds to the edges of his lips. Connor doesn’t stop, even when he feels the vibrator shaking at maximum intensity and his own orgasm slowly climbing.

 

Abruptly, he’s pulled off Hank’s throbbing cock, and the vibrator ceases to move. 

 

“Stand up, pants and underwear off.”

 

Despite the bleariness of his lust filled haze, the instructions register clear enough for him to get up; a little unsteadily, much like a newborn calf, his knees too weak and fingers useless as he works his rather constricting clothes off. It’s a blessed relief, only leaving on his top and the garter holding the wire of the vibrator in place. Hank gives a motion to turn, Connor follows the order and feels himself getting tugged backwards, waist held and tethered just above the bulbous head of his cock.

 

“Look at you, how’d I get so lucky with such a pretty little thing?”

 

He’s drawn in, back pressed to Hank’s chest with a ghost of a teasing breath in his ear as Hank nipped playfully—fingers teased the wire, gently tugging the vibrator out with what Connor takes as painful edging to his already aroused and fucked out state. Fingers grasp weakly onto the lavish leather seats, his own voice a broken record.

 

“ _ Pleasepleaseplease _ —I’ve been good,  _ please _ fuck me.”

 

“God you really are perfect.”

 

The vibrator comes yanked out, a little too quickly that it has Connor flinching. He’s given not a moment to get used to the feeling of being empty before Hank’s cock nudges at his entrance—bulbous head working past the tight ring of muscles, Hank’s hands are a firm fit around his waist. Holding him in place and unrelenting as he sinks Connor down onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside the tight warmth. 

 

Connor feels himself careening over the edge, if the vibrator was torture he’s almost certain this was hell.

 

Hank, for whatever reason doesn’t move, and doesn’t seem intent on moving, humming rather contentedly to have Connor become his personal cockwarmer—but patience isn’t a virtue Connor practices. With whatever movement he’s allowed, he grinds himself down back onto Hank, choked moan escaping past lips and earning a grunt from Hank.

 

“Behave, boy.”

 

“You aren’t fucking me—“

 

The sentence is rather short-lived before he feels Hank dragging out and slamming back into him. He feels the next few moments passing by in a blur, bouncing on Hank’s lap with insistent pleasure building at the base and a consistent heat burning on the inside. Every thrust bringing him closer to the edge, a push and pull of a steady tide drawing him further away from the safety of the shore. Hank whispers filthy nothings to him in these times, a deep reverence they share in precious moments like these that’s enough for Connor to reach the end—especially with the way Hank’s cock pistons deep into a part of him that previous lovers could never even hope to reach.

 

His grip tightens on the mini table, climax ripping through him and spurting white across the once pristine wooden top. Hank remains unyielding, powerful thrusts through his orgasm keeping him over the edge of pleasure until a final last push and he feels Hank coming into him. A heavy warmth fills him enough for Connor to return in sated, delightful shivers running through his body.

 

A quiet second passes between them, doused in a comforting afterglow of jet sex before the speaker comes alive and the captain’s voice taps through (albeit hesitantly) to the main compartment; politely informing them they’ll be landing at the private airport soon.

 

Connor, entirely happy to remain seated on Hank’s softening cock, leans back onto Hank. Lovingly nuzzling the side of the ticklish beard and whispering his question.

 

“So ... does this qualify me for the mile-high club?”

  
Hank, entirely humoured, replies with a gruff and affectionate  _ yes _ .

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter and commission me there yeehaw [@therealconnor60](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)


End file.
